


The Disintegration of Sam Winchester

by AGJ1990



Series: Misc. Stories [7]
Category: Supernatural
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-25
Updated: 2018-10-25
Packaged: 2019-08-07 12:15:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16408307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AGJ1990/pseuds/AGJ1990
Summary: "It was how many times I let you down." Takes place after the famous church scene in Sacrifice (8x23) but before Dean calls Gadreel (9x1). Dean wonders why Sam values himself so little, then realizes that he may be the core of the problem.





	The Disintegration of Sam Winchester

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The characters of Supernatural do not belong to me, and neither does the dialogue from the show used in this story.
> 
> A/N: I want to make something clear here. I am not a Dean hater. Far from it. I think he’s one of the best big brothers I’ve ever seen. However, I am a Sam girl. I love my Sammy :). But anyway, Dean does tend to be very hard on himself, which is the idea behind this story. Basically, Dean is sitting next to Sam’s bed after the church scene in my favorite season 8 episode, Sacrifice, thinking about why Sam would feel about himself the way he does. There’s next to no action, just Dean’s train of thought that leads to him calling Gadreel. Hope that makes sense. Enjoy!

Dean was drowning. Drowning in his own pain. Sam lay on the hospital bed in front of him, barely alive. Every heartbeat that wasn’t accompanied by Sam’s voice was draining the will to live out of Dean.

 

He passed the time by thinking. Thinking about what had happened in the church specifically, and in their lives generally. Thinking about the things that Sammy had said to him in the church, the ones that felt like they were ripping a hole in his heart now.

 

_You want to know what I confessed in there? It was how many times I let you down. I can’t do that again. What happens when you’ve decided I can’t be trusted again?_

How was it possible that Sam believed Dean didn’t trust him? Well, didn’t trust him now, anyway? Sam had more than earned his trust back.

 

But deep down, Dean knew the truth. The deep, dark, horrible truth. That Sam felt this way because Dean had done it to him. They weren’t little children anymore, and fights between them couldn’t just be fixed with a wrestling match or light teasing. The impassioned speech he’d made to Sammy, as much as he meant it, couldn’t undo the damage that had been done to Sam’s psyche.

 

_Hold on, hold on! You seriously think that? Because none of it -- none of it -- is true. Listen, man, I know we've had our disagreements, okay? Hell, I know I've said some junk that set you back on your heels. But, Sammy...come on. I killed Benny to save you. I'm willing to let this bastard and all the sons of bitches that killed mom walk because of you. Don't you dare think that there is anything, past or present, that I would put in front of you! It has never been like that, ever! I need you to see that. I'm begging you._

 

Disagreements. Memories started to surface of the many ‘disagreements’ the two of them had had. All of them bad, some of them really bad, some of them soul shredding.

 

_You’re a selfish bastard, you know that? You just do what you want, don’t care what anybody else thinks._

 

Dean scoffed at that particular memory. Jess had only been dead a few months, and Sam was just trying to figure out why. But Dean had been so focused on obeying their father’s every order to the letter that he’d disregarded Sam’s need and all but called him a bad son.

 

Which was completely ridiculous. Sam was the model of a good son. It had never escaped Dean’s attention that, had they grown up in the apple pie life that Sam craved so hungrily growing up, Sam would have been the model child while Dean would be considered the handful. Despite the constant World War III type battles that had raged in what could pass as the Winchester home, when it came to the hunts themselves, Sam would always give two hundred percent to the research. He would try, no matter the resistance from their father, to make sure they knew exactly what it was they were going after and how to kill it. He did everything he could to keep his father and brother safe. If Sam wasn’t sure that they were ready, he had always been prepared fight until his dying breath to keep John and Dean safe and alive.

Some real selfish bastard there.

 

_All you’ve ever done is run away._

 

Sam had wanted to go to college from the time he was old enough to understand what the word college meant. To him it was a way to escape the world he so very much despised.

 

Until just recently, Dean had never understood that Sam not wanting to hunt didn’t mean he didn’t want Dean. Quite the opposite. Dean was Sam’s anchor to the world, the first person to ever make him feel loved unconditionally. As bad a mess as Dean had made of that in the years following, he was Sam’s world.

 

The first time Dean remembered Sam really ‘running away’ was at fourteen. He and John had gotten in another of what Dean called their ‘pissing contests’, Sam had gotten punished for disrespect again, and he’d gone to his room presumably to sulk. John had left on a hunt, and been called back three days later after Dean had attempted to find Sam on his own. When Dean thought about those three days, he often felt anger. Annoyance. He’d wonder how Sam could be selfish enough to do something like that to the person who’d raised him.

 

But another memory came clear in Dean’s brain. Not the screaming between John and Sam, which at times had gotten so loud that neighbors had threatened to call the police. No, what stuck out to Dean now was the look on Sam’s face. The tired, old, rundown look that had no place on the face of a boy barely in his teens. Sam had tried to explain to Dean after he’d gotten back from Flagstaff his reasoning for leaving. But Dean would have none of it. He’d shut Sam out for days after coming back. And it was the hurt look in Sam’s eyes, the one like a lost puppy looking for his owner, that was hurting Dean now. Sam had desperately needed a long break, a break that their father was too stubborn to give him and Dean was too oblivious to see the need for. Had they both put Sam first instead of the hunt for once, the entire Flagstaff incident could possibly have been avoided, and Sam might have ended up with a much better relationship with his father and brother.

 

_You walk out that door, don’t you ever come back!_

This was Dean’s personal favorite. Sam had heard it in some form or other from the three people who were supposedly there to take care of him. Bobby had eventually taken it back, as had Dean. But Dean had been looking his brother in the eye all three times. Sure, there were hints of anger there, but what stood out to Dean now was the defeat. The look of _I’m sorry I let you down. Please don’t hate me. Not you too._

 

Of course, it had all started with John years before. Sam had been so proud of his accomplishment, getting into Stanford on a full scholarship. After Sam had left for college, Dean had done research on exactly how hard it _was_ to do that. All his research had only confirmed one thing. His little brother was every bit as special as he thought. Special enough that even the best schools in the country had taken notice. But it was too late to stand up for Sam at that point. And instead of tracking him down and apologizing for it, begging him to not cut him and John from Sam’s life, Dean had let Sam live the life he wanted. Only later had he realized that he was also allowing Sam to think that they both hated him.

 

Nice job, idiot.

 

_You know, nice dude, but he’s got something evil inside. Something in his blood. Maybe you can relate._

 

Another thing Dean had thrown in Sam’s face-his demon blood. He knew, and had known from the time he found it, that it made Sam feel, in Sam’s own words, “like a freak”. And it wasn’t the only time Dean _had_ thrown it in his face. How could Sam possibly feel whole, feel normal, feel _loved,_ when the one person who was supposed to love him threw the thing that Sam reviled most about himself in his face like it was nothing?

Of course, thinking back on it now, he could hear Sam’s voice too. Responding to all the nasty things that had ever been hurled at him.

 

_You’re the one who said don’t come back Dad. You closed that door. Not me._

 

It was true. When Sam had left for Stanford, he’d offered to keep helping Dean and John in any way that he could. Research between classes. Meet up with them on breaks and hunt. Help them with short hunts in the area. But John had been so determined to keep Sam in his sights, wehre he could see him twenty-four hours a day, that he’d flat out refused Sam’s offer then issued the ultimatum. Sam had tried to get Dean to at least listen to reason, but of course Dean hadn’t.

 

“You heard Dad, Sammy. Make your choice.”

 

Except it hadn’t been a choice. Not really. Dean knew that John had issued the ultimatum thinking that Sam would never leave Dean. But Sam hadn’t left to hurt Dean. He’d left to escape the monsters, the evil, the constant shredding of his sensitive soul by all the bad in the world. He wanted to experience what was good about it, if anything. And damn it, Dean thought, he more than deserved that chance.

 

Then came the thought that drove a spike through Dean’s soul.

 

_I know exactly how screwed up I am. You, Bobby, Cas-I’m the least of any of you._

 

“That’s it.”

 

Dean stood up from the chair, took a long look down at Sam, and made his decision.   
  
“You are not the least of us. We never would have made it without you. I’m bringing you back little brother. I’m bringing you back.” It took a while, but he formed his plan. “This is Dean Winchester. This goes out to any angels with their ears on…”


End file.
